Simple Mistakes (Louis Tomlinson Love story)

"It wasn't my fault!" I screeched, my makeup was running from crying so much. Sighing he shook his head.

"You were with him Aly! You two kissed! You cheated on me!" I shook my head this isn't happening. It can't be.

"Why can't you trust me?" I asked in a voice below a whisper. Sighing he turned his back to me.

"Because you cheated on my Aly."

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1. Chapter One

 

                Run, run, and run. That’s all the crossed my mind as I sprinted across clean cut lawns and jumped over low fences. Running for your life really makes you have such a rush I think. Considering the fact that I was hauling ass and trying to escape the grips of the girls with their killer claws. AKA: Their fake nails. So yes it has its pro’s and its con’s. A pro I’m have a lovely workout con I’m gasping for breath like a cow underwater. My blond hair was flying behind me as I clutched her diary to my chest. You’re probably thinking ‘Hey why do you have her diary?’ Well my dear friends you see I have it because she took  stole something very important to me. My  boyfriend  ex-boyfriend. Her and her whore friends are going to’ get it this time. I’m sick of their crap and games. I made a sharp left and sprinted out into the dark road only lit by a few lampposts. Ignoring the loud honking from a driver and there colorful words attached I made my way where I huge pond was lying out. Smirking I threw the little notebook that held all of Vanessa’s secrets, gossip, love life in it, to that little dainty pond. Slowing down I turned around just in time for her expression. Her mouth dropped open. You could see the sweat glistening off her fake tan, her dye to many times blond hair was thrown everywhere from running after me. Her high heel was broken. She turned to look at me. Those piercing grey eyes that looked at me held one emotion. Anger.

                “You bitch!” She shrieked. That’s when I lost it.

                “It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have to go whore around and screw my boyfriend you slut!” I spat at her while pointing my finger at her. She gave me a cold laugh, shaking her head. Then returning her gaze to me, glaring. I swear if looks could kill I’d be 6 feet under right about now.

                “Your boyfriend sure enjoyed it.” I froze, my eyes widening then just as quickly I glared at her.

                “You asked for it.” Raising my fist I was about to punch that fake face of hers when a strong British voice yelled.

                “Whoa hold up don’t hurt each other!” This is the story of how I met Louis Tomlinson.

 

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